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jensengirl83 · 4 years

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Hate To Love You

Dean x reader

Word count-1354

Warnings- Language, fluff, kidnapping

Summary- Dean and reader are captured by Toni Bevell from the British Men of Letters. How will it turn out considering they hate each other.

written for @superfanficnatural and @impala-1979 follower challenge

Dean Winchester, the impermeable thorn in my side. He has done it again, getting us in a mess I don’t know if we will get out of. He just couldn’t accept that Mary was working with the British Men of Letters, leading us here, now captured by that snotty bitch that is Toni Bevell. Seeing him sitting over there in the corner of the room, pouting like a child, makes me want to punch the shit out of him. Me and Dean just cannot seem to get along. Sam says it is because we are so much alike, making me want to punch him too. I am nothing like that man. Always demanding, gruff, and just a down right asshole sometimes. Sure, not like I’m not a bitch on occasion, but I could never compare to Oscar the grouch over there.

“You going to keep staring at me or are you going to help me figure out how to get out of this princess?” That nickname infuriates me, maybe it wouldn’t if he didn’t say it so condescendingly.

“I’m not staring Dean. I was thinking of the many ways I could kill you if we get out of this.” That eye roll. I hope his damn eyes get stuck back there. “We wouldn’t be in this mess if you would have listened to me Winchester!”

“Whatever Y/n, just shut up and I’ll figure out how to get us out of here.” Now I am really pissed. Did he really just tell me to shut up?!

“Fuck you Dean! We wouldn’t have to figure anything out if you could have just accepted that ‘Mommy’ didn’t want to stick around.” I knew my words were uncalled for as soon as they passed my lips. I desperately wish I could take them back. Yes, Dean is a pain in my ass, but he did not deserve that. The look on his face is all I need to see to know I was right. My words cut him, surely cutting deep. I silently curse myself, knowing I should have just kept my mouth shut. My mouth tends to override my ass when I’m angry, saying things the wrong way, or that I don’t even mean.

“Look Dean, I’m sorry. I should not have said that. I’m just angry and scared we might not make it back this time.” He says nothing, turning to look at me. The pain is written all over his face, making my heart drop. I have really done it this time. I stand and make my way over to him, sitting down cross-legged in front of him. I reach to grab his hand, instantly regretting it, when he flinches away. Why did that hurt me so bad? Sure, I hate I said those things, but why is his rejection making my heart ache?

“Just forget it Y/n. Maybe you’re right, too old to be needing my Mom around all the time huh?” Oh God my heart! What is this man doing to me right now?! I feel like the Grinch, my heart just keeps growing for him.

“No Dean, I wasn’t right at all. Actually, I was an ass, no one deserves to have their mom in their life more than you and Sam.” I reach for his hand, him not pulling away this time, and give it a soft squeeze. He finally looks up, our eyes meeting, and something in me snaps. Have I always felt this way for him, or did the situation change my feelings? Either way, I now know I have feelings for Dean.

“You ok there sweetheart?” He must have sensed the shift in me, or it’s plainly written on my face, not sure which one.

“Uhh yeah…yeah, I’m fine Dean.” I hope I was convincing because, I am in fact, not ok at all. I feel his thumb starting to rub circles on the top of hand, not that I don’t enjoy it, but you don’t usually do those things with someone you hate right? Come to think of it, he called me sweetheart, never a name he has used to refer to me. Dean speaking brings me out of my mental clusterfuck.

“Why do you hate me Y/n?” Dean’s voice is soft and low, like he fears the answer to his question.

“I never said I hated you Dean.” Sure, I understand where he thinks that, but I have never actually said it.

“You really didn’t have to say it.” Dean chuckles lightly, squeezing my hand again. “You know the saying actions speak louder than words?”

“Yes, I do Winchester. Do you?” I have to laugh. Does he have no recollection of his past behavior?

“What do you mean Y/n.” That damn smirk. He knows exactly what I mean. I want to punch that stupid handsome face!

“Whatever Dean, you asshole.” We are both laughing now. What a difference a few minutes makes. We were ready to kill each other twenty minutes ago.

“In all seriousness sweetheart, I don’t hate you, never have.” He is rubbing his hand across the back of his neck; first sign Dean is nervous. “Quite the opposite actually.”

“What are you trying to say Dean?” I am holding my breath. Is he going to say what I think he is?

“Going to make me just come right out and say it huh?” That little nervous chuckle giving me butterflies. “I like you Y/n, ok? I have since I met you. You are so damn sassy, it is intimidating.” The full-bodied laugh ripping through me, causing me to fall over. I

“I didn’t find anything about what I said funny Y/n.” Dean has serious bitch face going right now, as I continue to laugh, trying my hardest to catch my breath.

“I am sorry Dean, but you are intimidated by me? I am barely five feet tall! That is very funny!” I’m still laughing but I can speak now anyway.

“Have you seen yourself hunt Y/n? You could kick mine or Sam’s ass with one hand tied behind your back.” Dean laughs at the visual we both have now. “That’s not all that is intimidating. You…uhhh…you’re…well…Damn it! I think you are gorgeous Y/n! There, I said it.” I know eyes are huge and my mouth hanging open. I was not expecting that!

“You think I am pretty so you picked on me like we were in third grade?”

“Well…..you know what? Shut up!” Dean is very lovely shade of pink right now. It is so adorable I can’t get mad at him for telling me to shut up again.

“Really Dean? Are you going to make me?” Guess we are back in third grade. A look I can’t quite make out on his face, a mix of hesitation but also determination? Before I can think anymore about it, his hand is in my hair pulling me to him. The kiss he places on my lips is sweet, passionate, and feels a little like the edge of desperation. I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling myself into his lap, the kiss getting more heated. Footsteps outside the door has us jumping apart like we have been electrocuted. The last thing we need is that bitch trying to use us against each other. The door swings open and we are on our feet ready to fight.

“Whoa..Whoa..It’s me!!”

“Sam?!” me and Dean say in unison. I have never been so happy to see that shaggy haired man in my life!

“Come on guys. Let’s get you out of here.” Sam is already back out the door before he finishes his sentence. I move heading for the door when Dean grabs me and pulls me to his chest, placing a quick kiss to my forehead.

“You still hate me sweetheart?” He asks with that brilliantly white smile gracing his face.

“Nah, I just hate to love you now Winchester.” We are both laughing on our way out the door.

“Yeah well, I love you too sweetheart.”

Maybe I need to thank Toni for locking us up together. I might, only after kicking her ass first.

@flamencodiva @sorenmarie87 @foxyjwls007 @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @voltage-my2dlove

#MertAndPala’sFollowerCelebration!#dean winchester #dean x reader #spn fanfiction #spn family #supernatural

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ellewritesfix05 · 4 years

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Coming Home

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam, Beatrix/Amethyst

Word Count: ~5.5k

Warnings: A little angst, a little fluff, TW: PTSD symptoms (namely: hallucinations, anxiety attack)

A/N: Hello my sweets! This here I have written for @superfanficnatural and @impala-1979 ‘s awesome “Mert and Pala’s Celebration Challenge”! My prompt was Clean/Reincarnation/PTSD. It was definitely one of the biggest challenges for me, took a while but it’s finally done and I truly hope y’all like it! 💜💜💜

📸 cred: to rightful owners

Elle’s Library/Main Masterlist

Dean Winchester Library

“So get this, it looks like the Men of Letters kept a file on this witch. Apparently she’s gone by multiple names in the past three hundred years she’s been active, the last one on record is Amethyst.”

Dean continued to wipe down the hood of the Impala, looking over to Sam — who was standing at the entrance of the garage, a binder in hand — every now and then to show he’d been listening. For weeks now they’d been on the trail of a dangerous witch that seemed to be an expert at evasive action. She’d roll up into town, hex a couple men to kill their wives for her, and move on before the brothers could reach her latest victims. Tired of driving from state to state with little to show for their efforts, Sam decided it might be best to go back to the bunker and look for information that the fortress of knowledge may have on such a powerful witch. Luckily, he’d been able to find her file, or rather an entire box of files on her, rather quickly.

“Okay, so we’re looking for a witch with an identity crisis?” Dean set the cleaning tools aside and walked over to his brother. The pair headed inside, side by side as Sam continued to look through the binder.

“Yeah,” Sam chuckled, “or a really smart one. She changes her name and probably her whole appearance and most hunters are none the wiser. They could be looking for some brunette witch named Beatrix and run into her having changed to a redhead that goes by Meredith pretending to help.”

“Fucking witches, man. They’re the worst,” Dean sighed as he sat down at one of the tables in the bunker’s library. He opened a different file on the witch in order to help Sam find as much information as possible. Normally he hated research, but when an ancient witch was going on a murder rampage across the country, it seemed like an all hands on deck situation.

They read for hours only finding trivial information, piles of it but none really important enough to help them find her. It wasn’t until they were about to call it a night that Dean came across a picture of a woman that seemed eerily familiar.

Among the pile of reports and book excerpts, the sepia toned photograph had been hiding, barely hanging on to a couple pages with a paper clip. Dean picked up the report and stared at the image, she was beautiful. Long Y/H/C hair flowed down, perfectly framing her face. Her full, inviting lips carefully pulled at the edges, as if she’d been told to hold back her smile. And her eyes… wide, Y/E/C eyes that seemed to sparkle despite the faded tones of the old ink. Yet they also held something in them, an oddly placed apprehension. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d say it was even fear, hidden beneath a hopeful gaze.

“Earth to Dean!” Sam’s snapping in front of his face brought Dean back to reality. He hadn’t realized that his younger brother had been trying to get his attention for a few minutes now.

“Dude, are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” was all Dean could muster up. Sam frowned but nodded, he was about to ask what had distracted his brother so much when the older Winchester stood up and walked away, a small file in hand.

Dean couldn’t help but walk away. The picture seemed to have been taken long ago, decades before Dean was even born, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen her before. Somewhere out there, not just in a photograph. He reached his room and sat on the edge of the bed, looking through the woman’s file. As his eyes scanned the report in his hands, Dean’s brow furrowed. What he read seemed impossible and yet, if it was part of the Men of Letters archives, chances were that everything written down was true. Minutes after having finished reading the file, Dean grabbed a duffel and packed. He didn’t know why or how, but he knew that he had to find Y/N Y/L/N.

****

“I still don’t understand, what makes you so sure that this Y/N Y/L/N is still alive?” Sam read and re-read the file as he sat in the passenger seat of the Impala. As soon as Dean had explained, he too had thought it highly unusual, even for them, but he didn’t share in Dean’s insistence that this woman, whoever she was, needed to be found. The last entry from the Men of Letters about her was written over one hundred years ago. Who knows if she was still around?

Dean tapped impatiently on the steering wheel, he didn’t know why either but something inside him kept nagging, insisting that he knew her and needed to find her, “I just know, Sammy. I don’t know how but I do. Don’t get me wrong, I know that I sound like a crazy person, but I really think she’s still cursed and alive. Even if the Men of Letters lost her, I have this feeling that she’s still out there.”

Sam sighed but conceded, opening up his laptop to see if he could find any information on the mysterious woman. They reached a small hotel in the middle of Nebraska, as Dean’s eyelids had become too heavy to keep driving. As soon as they checked in, Dean collapsed on the closest bed in the motel room.

“You know, that bluff would work a hell of a lot better if you could stop tapping your foot when you have a good hand.”

Y/N smiled as she laid her cards face down, folding instead of falling for Dean’s ruse to get her to put down even more money. Dean frowned as she did and narrowed his eyes. They’d only been playing for half an hour, how did she already know all of his tricks and tells?

She laughed at his suspecting expression, “sorry, love. I’m not losing all my money to you, even if you are the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

Dean couldn’t help but smirk at that, he knew she was attracted to him the second he walked through the swinging doors of the dive bar. Looking up from the game of poker she’d been taking part in, the way she bit her bottom lip and casually flipped her hair had given her away immediately.

“That so?” Dean winked at her, he was definitely getting lucky tonight. Y/N’s smile grew wider as she stood up from her chair and walked up behind Dean.

She leaned down, lips close to his ear and her breath fanning over his skin as she whispered, “that is so. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend to.”

She placed a quick kiss on his cheek and walked out the door, Dean grabbed the cash from the table and scrambled out of his chair to follow her but was too late. Her car was already pulling out of its parking spot. He barely managed to see her wink at him over her shoulder before she drove away — it wasn’t until he reached for his wallet to put the money he’d won away that he realized why she’d left so quickly. At some point during their short, yet heated, exchange she’d swiped his wallet containing all the money he’d earned at various poker games and pool hustles in the past two weeks.

Dean awoke with a start. It had been so long ago, ages since he’d seen her but it was definitely her. The woman from the picture. He got up and shook Sam awake, ducking down when the tall Winchester pulled a gun from beneath his pillow. They dressed quickly, Sam barely managing to put his jacket on when Dean started honking the horn, eager to get to Colorado. On the drive to the town where he’d met Y/N, Dean filled Sam in on his dream from the previous night.

“And you’re sure that it was the same woman?” Sam asked for the third time.

“Yes, Sam. I’m sure, I knew I’d seen her somewhere before but it’s been so long I forgot about that time,” Dean stepped on the gas pedal, impatiently wishing that they’d reach Colorado faster.

“So you’re saying that the woman who hustled you 12 years ago is the same woman that has apparently been alive for the past 250 years” Sam chuckled, “if this wasn’t so weird I’d actually laugh.”

“Shut up,” Dean sighed exasperated, which actually made Sam laugh.

****

They arrived in the town of Buena Vista much faster than expected, thanks to Dean’s enthusiasm on the gas pedal. Though it seemed like a long shot that Y/N would even still be in the same town, at least they had somewhere to start looking from. They checked in to the local Super 8 before changing into their fed suits, choosing to use fake personas to question the townspeople.

Their search proved much shorter than expected when the manager at the grocery store identified Y/L immediately.

“That’s Helena, at least it was before she went crazy and started calling herself Y/N,” said the man. The brothers looked at each other with furrowed brows.

“Crazy?” Sam prompted.

“Yeah, she used to be a real good kid. I mean, when she was younger she’d get into all kinds of trouble, but who didn’t? Once she turned 25 though she became a real fine lady, part of the church group, did a lot of charity work, and even started the local community center, caring for the townspeople for years. Poor thing lost her mind a few months ago though, started having all these episodes and saying her name was Y/N Y/L/N and she’d been cursed by some witch. We tried helping her but there was only so much we could do. Her parents died a long time ago and she doesn’t really have any family around so we decided to help take care of her but when she almost killed the baker’s daughter in her sleep, the doctors decided it might be best to put her in an institution.”

The brothers were speechless. In the files they’d read about Y/N, the Men of Letters mentioned episodes she would experience but nothing close to what they had just heard. They thanked the man for his help and headed out. Sam looked up the location of the facility where Y/N had been taken and they drove there in a hurry. If the files were anything to go by, they didn’t have long before they lost Y/N.

****

When they arrived at Sunny Meadows, the institution where Y/N had apparently been taken, Dean couldn’t help a shiver running down his spine. Despite its elegant design, the facility seemed like a prison — a cage, decorated with peonies and sunflowers but a cage nonetheless.

The brothers walked in and requested a meeting with the facility director, a Dr. Sanderson. They walked into the well-decorated office where an elderly woman sat at the desk. Her small, rectangular glasses perched on the bridge of a long, slim nose. Deeply etched wrinkles surrounded tiny, beady eyes. With a tight lipped smile that unsettled the brothers right on sight.

“My assistant tells me you’re looking for Helena Roberts?” Dr. Sanderson asked as they sat down across from her.

Sam nodded, “we think she may have some information on a case we’re working on.”

“I see,” Dr. Sanderson leaned back in her chair, her tiny frame nearly swallowed completely by the squeaky clean leather, “I’m sorry to say, agents, but Ms. Roberts isn’t in the best shape to answer any questions at the moment. She doesn’t really know who she is, let alone anything concerning an FBI case.”

Dean, who had remained quiet since they walked into the office, sat up straighter and looked the doctor in the eye, “we understand, doc, but we really need to talk to her.”

Dr. Sanderson looked down and seemed to blush, “very well. If you’ll follow me.”

They walked behind the small-statured woman, along long corridors and past multiple large rooms, all decorated distinctly to differentiate between patients. After a few moments they emerged to the back garden where multiple patients sat around, some looking at the sky, some reading a book, and some admiring the flowers. Before Dr. Sanderson could point her out, Dean spotted Y/N on the far side of the garden, sitting in the middle of what seemed to be a sort of modified devil’s trap made with flower petals. Thanking the director, Sam and Dean walked to where Y/N was.

She sat cross-legged, a large book in front of her as her lips moved in a silent prayer. Engrossed in her ritual, she failed to hear the brothers approaching until Sam cleared his throat to grab her attention.

Stopping her mutters, Y/N looked up and was momentarily blinded by the sun behind them. Once her vision focused, Y/N couldn’t help the smile that curled up her lips.

“Hi, Y/N,” said Dean, crouching down to be at her eye level, “I don’t know if you remember me, I’m-“

“Dean Winchester,” Y/N interrupted, “of course I remember you… you’re still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

Sam chuckled incredulously, somehow Dean’s story about meeting this poor woman was true.

Dean laughed, “still am, huh? That’s good to know.”

“Don’t let it get to your head,” she replied jokingly, “but, what are you doing here?”

Dean sat down across from her, signaling Sam to do the same. He reached into his coat's inner pocket and pulled out the photograph he’d found of her in the bunker, “we’re here because we know what happened to you and we want to help.”

Y/N took the photograph from Dean’s hand, running her fingers down the image that contained so many memories. She looked longingly at the picture, and suddenly realized who Sam and Dean were.

“You’re Men of Letters.”

Sam and Dean looked to each other questioningly.

“We are,” replied Sam, “how did you know?”

“I think you know,” said Y/N, “if you have this picture that means you must’ve read my file. The Men of Letters said they’d write down everything about me to try and help. Three times I found them, and three times they failed. I always died before they could find her, at least until the third time when one of them tried to kidnap me.”

Dean’s expression could not be more confused, “they did what? The file only mentions a curse, something to do with reincarnation but nothing in detail.”

“Well, they got that right, but that’s not the whole story. I only told one of them the full story, at least what I could remember but I ran away afterwards. He said he would help me but only if I agreed to be part of his collection.”

“Collection? What was his name, Y/N?” Sam asked.

“Magnus, but I don’t think that was his real name. After I escaped him the rest of the Men of Letters tried to convince me that he wasn’t really one of them, but I got scared and ran away anyway. I died shortly after and ever since I’ve been too scared to go back… wait, you’re not here to take me to his collection are you?”

Y/N stood up immediately, looking around for a weapon to defend herself with. Dean stood up as well and held his hands up in surrender, “we’re not here to hurt you, sweetheart. We just want to help, I promise.”

Despite only having briefly met him once, Y/N could see nothing but truth in Dean’s apple-green irises. She nodded and sat back down, feeling safer but still choosing to stay in the protection of her trap.

Dean looked down at the modified trap and asked, “what is this? It looks like a devil’s trap.”

“It’s a witch trap,” Sam chimed in, looking at the symbols ‘drawn’ with rose petals, “isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Y/N nodded, “good eye.”

“A witch trap? We have those?” Dean questioned.

Sam looked up to his brother, “I’ve read about them but the lore mentioned them as more of a theoretical defense, there wasn’t any proof that they actually work.”

“Well, they do. It’s what’s keeping her away from me,” said Y/N.

“Her? As in the witch that cursed you?” Dean sat back down.

“She’s close, I can feel it. She knows it’s almost time to die and she likes to watch.”

Sam frowned, he didn’t want to seem insensitive but the lack of information was becoming more frustrating by the minute, “what’s the curse, Y/N? The Men of Letters only called it “reincarnation curse” but I’ve never read anything like it.”

“Well,” Y/N sighed, “it’s a long story but… basically, a couple centuries ago, before the American Revolution, I was betrothed to an old man, a lord or something, it’s hard to remember properly. My parents were not the best off and he’d taken interest in me. I didn’t want to marry him, though, I was in love with someone else. His name was Michael… most handsome man I’d ever seen.”

She looked off to the distance, trying to remember the man she’d once loved. A cough interrupted her reverie and she smiled nervously, “sorry. To be honest I hardly remember him now, I just remember having that thought. Anyway, we’d planned to elope and run away, almost did except someone else was interested in him as well.”

“She went by the name ‘Beatrix’ at the time,” Y/N continued, “her and Michael’s parents had arranged for the two to marry and when we decided we’d run away she found out. We didn’t know at the time but she turned out to be a witch. On the night we had planned to leave, she caught up to us and went crazy. She ran to his side and whispered something in his ear. Next thing I knew he was coming for me and…”

Faded images began to seep into Y/N’s mind, tears were streaming down her face and Dean reached out to wipe them away with his thumb. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt the need to hold her.

“I’m sorry… it’s just hard, especially since she erased my memories of his image. I’ve only been able to hang on to him through my feelings. She was powerful enough to erase him from my mind but my heart still remembers.”

Sam nodded sympathetically, while Dean moved to her side, wrapping his arms around her.

“It’s okay, darling,” said Dean, “take the time you need.”

She let the tears fall freely for a few moments.

“Thank you,” she sniffled, “god I’m sorry, I’m such a mess.”

“Not at all, like Dean said just take your time.”

Y/N smiled gratefully, “anyway, long story short, he killed me. At least I remember something or someone stabbing me, and just before I died I heard Beatrix laugh and chant some words. It wasn’t until I came back as someone else and started getting my memories back later on that I realized what she did. Every 37 years, like clockwork, I die. Basically, she’s cursed me to live multiple lives. Actually have a life, learn to love, learn to hate, have a proper experience and when it seems to be going my way I get these headaches followed by a flood of memories. Memories of the witch, faded memories of Michael, and mainly memories of the ways every man I’ve ever loved has killed me.”

They all sat in silence, the brothers trying to understand the story they’d just been told. They had seen their fair share of witchcraft but this seemed extreme, even for them. While Sam tried to understand the curse and figure out ways to find the witch and break it, Dean couldn’t help the surge of anger coursing through his veins.

How could someone do that? How could anyone hurt Y/N like that? And for what? Another man? Falling in love? If he thought he hated witches before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now. The seething rage and disgust he felt towards them increased tenfold. Looking down at Y/N, he still didn’t understand the need to protect her or the odd connection he felt to her, but he knew that there was nothing on this earth that would stop him from saving her. Even if it was the last thing he’d ever do.

****

Soon after the sun started to set, Sam and Dean convinced Y/N to leave the facility with them. They’d promised to protect and help her. She’d been apprehensive at first but the moment she looked into Dean’s eyes she knew she could trust him with her life. Breaking her out of the institution was a piece of cake. All they did was pull a fire alarm and get lost in the crowd as the building was evacuated. After a couple hours, they found themselves back in the motel room, sitting at the kitchenette table as Y/N took a shower.

“Anything?” Dean asked Sam, opening yet another beer.

They’d been searching for any witch activity nearby, but so far the search had proved unsuccessful.

“Nothing,” Sam ran a hand through his long, brown locks, “I really don’t think she’s around here.”

“Y/N said she’s around so that means she’s around. Come on, man, we have to save her.”

“What is this about, Dean? This whole time you’ve been acting weird and I didn’t want to say anything before but you’re starting to worry me.” Sam closed his laptop and leaned forward on the table.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, “nothing, Sam. I just wanna get this case over with.”

“Bullshit, Dean. Something’s going on, just tell me.”

“I don’t know, okay?” Dean yelled as he stood up, “I just know that I need to save her!”

In the middle of the argument, the brothers hadn’t noticed Y/N standing just outside the bathroom door. She’d recently emerged from the steamy shower and heard the entire exchange.

“You feel it too?” She asked, walking slowly towards Dean. Ever since he’d popped back into her life, Y/N had felt a sort of connection to Dean. Like a magnet pulling her towards the tall, handsome man with the honest and stunning green eyes.

She stopped right in front of him, unknowingly reaching up to touch his face. Dean was speechless.

As her hand touched his stubbled cheek, he closed his eyes and leaned into it. He didn’t know how or why, all he knew was that being this close to her felt… right. Right and peaceful.

As her thumb lightly traced his lower lip, Dean opened his eyes and became lost in her Y/E/C orbs. They were like oceans, or deep Y/E/C lakes that held so much — all the pain of her past deaths, all the love of her past lives, the fear and the joy, the confusion and the knowledge, everything she had been, and everything she would ever be.

Y/N felt the same way. As she stared deep into his soul, she could see him, truly see who he was. Someone who had been through more than anyone ever should, someone who had been to hell and back — literally, although that she did not know — but also someone who loved more fiercely and passionately than any human ever could. A tug on her heart strings whispered a secret, a secret that made no sense and yet made all the sense in the world. Who was Dean Winchester? Her heart knew.

Having completely forgotten Sam was in the room, Dean leaned down to kiss Y/N. Her eyes fluttered shut and he closed the distance. His breath fanned over her lips and his heart hammered in his chest. Closer and closer, until there was but a hair’s distance between their lips.

Suddenly, Y/N started screaming. Deep, frightened shrieks as she backed away.

“NO!” She cried, falling to her knees, “please, don’t kill me!”

She looked up at Dean through tear-filled eyes, the walls closing in around her and air completely leaving her lungs. She could barely make out Dean’s figure leaning down toward her, a sickening smirk on his face as he pulled a dagger from his jacket. She backed away as best she could but he followed, the sadistic glimmer of ecstasy visible in his now glowing, red eyes. Y/N curled up into fetal position and sobbed, it was happening again. He made her love him and now he would kill her. Like others before, he would grab her by the hair — she could almost feel the strong pull at her scalp — and drag her upwards. Stare at her with evil in his heart, and drag the sharp blade down her chest, stopping just where her heart was beating before plunging the dagger deep inside her, laughing as she choked on her own blood.

Dean was frantic. He tried to reach down to help her but she was completely terrified of him. The fear in her eyes broke his heart into a thousand pieces, even more when Sam ran to her. She curled up against him and begged to be saved from the monster, begged to be protected from Dean.

Sam held a shaking Y/N in his arms, he did the best he could to calm her down. She was hallucinating, somehow imagining Dean would kill her, and was completely inconsolable. Looking up at Dean apologetically, Sam could see how this was affecting his brother. Impossibly, Dean had fallen in love with a complete stranger and the image of her frightened, specifically by him, must be causing the older Winchester insurmountable amounts of pain.

Unable to take it anymore, Dean grabbed his car keys and headed for the door. He swung it open and was surprised to see Dr. Sanderson stood there, hand raised as if she were about to knock.

“Ah, Mr. Winchester, so nice to see you again,” said Dr. Sanderson.

Dean frowned, “sorry, doc. Don’t know who you’re looking for but no Winchester here.”

Dr. Sanderson smiled, “oh come off it, Dean. We both know who you really are.”

At the realization, Dean’s eyes widened as he reached backwards for his gun. Before he could aim at her, she raised her hand and yelled “Recedas!”

Suddenly, Dean was thrown backwards by an invisible force. Crashing against the far wall of the motel room as Sam reacted quickly to the attack. Not quick enough, however, as the witch repeated the curse and sent him flying backwards as well. Tethered to their respective walls, the Winchesters groaned in pain, struggling to get free as they watched the witch walk towards a distraught Y/N.

“Y/N, sweetie. So glad I found you,” she leaned down and grabbed Y/N’s chin between her forefinger and thumb.

“Dr. Sanderson?” Y/N whispered incredulously.

“Oh, sorry, almost forgot I’m still wearing my old hag form,” the witch laughed as she stepped back and muttered words in Latin. As she did, a purple light surrounded her, blinding everyone else and completely enveloping her. As the light dissipated, a beautiful brunette appeared before their eyes. Dean looked to Sam, worry etched across his features.

“Beatrix,” Y/N managed.

“That’s better, isn’t it? Now we can talk like old times, it has been a while... I missed you, honey.”

Sam frowned as he looked to see who the witch called honey. It wasn’t Y/N.

Beatrix sauntered over to Dean, reaching out to drag one perfectly manicured finger down his chest, “you know, at first I couldn’t believe my eyes. It’s been so long since I last saw you, I almost thought my mind was playing tricks on me.”

“Let us go, you bitch,” Dean seethed at the witch.

“It’s funny,” Beatrix continued, ignoring Dean’s demand as she laid both hands on his chest, caressing the firm muscles beneath his thin cotton shirt, “I cursed little Y/N here because she stole you from me, I wanted her to suffer over and over again. To fall in love like you and I did, to find happiness and then take it when she least expected it. I orchestrated the whole thing, I’ve seen all her lives and I’ve seen all her deaths but this… this is just a delicious coincidence.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Y/N asked. She was still on the floor, too scared to move but had found just enough courage to speak.

Beatrix laughed, “right. Sorry, I forgot what I did to you. You really don’t know who he is, do you?”

Y/N shook her head, tears once again streaming down her cheeks.

Leaving Dean behind, Beatrix walked towards Y/N again, “well here, let’s see if you remember now.”

She leaned down and pressed her blood-red lips to Y/N’s forehead. As soon as she did, faded and blurry memories of a long lost love flooded her mind. Walks in the park and stolen kisses in the cloak of night. Beautiful green eyes staring deep into her soul, filled with promises and love.

“Michael?” Y/N cried out.

“Bingo!”

Sam’s confused gaze flitted between Beatrix and Y/N and Dean. Soon, however, his hazel eyes widened in realization.

“What the fuck are you talking about, witch?” Dean growled as he saw Beatrix so close to Y/N, forget the pain he felt as he’d been slammed against the wall, he’d take a thousand hits before he let the damn witch touch Y/N again.

“It’s you, Dean,” Sam gasped for air as the force keeping him against the wall pressed on further, “you’re Michael.”

“No, he died a long time ago, Y/N said so,” Dean almost forgot he was still incapacitated by the witch’s curse, he was too focused on what Sam had just said to care.

Y/N stood on shaky legs, taking slow, measured steps towards him. “Michael,” she whispered as she touched his face once more.

“It’s Dean, sweetheart. Don’t worry, I’m going to save you,” his voice cracked as he saw the love and admiration in Y/N’s eyes, and for just a moment, he was at peace again.

An evil cackling brought him back to reality, “adorable. And remarkable, you’re not him at all and yet you feel the same way for this peasant as he did. Well, if you’re so desperate to be like Michael…”

Beatrix raised a hand and blew on a small pile of dust in her hand. She muttered more Latin and soon Dean was freed from his invisible prison. A gush of air surrounded him and suddenly his hand reached up to Y/N. To touch her, he told himself, but his hand had other plans. Against his wishes, it closed around Y/N’s throat, fingers wrapped around her soft skin as they squeezed, effectively cutting off her supply of air.

Y/N eyes widened in fear once more, she clawed at his hands around her throat, desperately trying to pry them off, to no avail. Dean screamed in agony, he wanted to stop, needed to stop, but his body wouldn’t listen, it was as if he was being possessed by a demon. Able to see what he did but incapable to stop it, even as his free hand pulled at the possessed one currently killing his love.

Beatrix laughed heartily, out of all the times she’d seen Y/N die, this may be her favorite yet. Not only did she get her revenge once more, she had seen a reincarnation of her former lover and it was Dean Winchester, the infamous hunter that so many others were terrified of. And he too suffered. She could see the pain in his eyes as he choked the life out of Y/N, and it was bliss to the witch.

She was so focused on the scene unfolding before her that she failed to keep the focus on Sam’s grip. The tall Winchester dropped to the floor, running to where his gun had dropped. He raised the weapon and cocked it. Although subtle and barely audible amid the cacophony of screams and laughter, the witch managed to hear the click and turned just in time to throw another curse at Sam. The weapon flew from his hands, Beatrix was seething, preparing to deliver a fatal strike when the boom of a shot rang in their ears.

She turned to Dean again, and saw the gun in his free hand. Gasping for breath, the witch sank to her knees. She tried to mutter one last curse before her body gave way and she collapsed completely, finally dead.

As Beatrix exhaled her last breath, the hand that was wrapped around Y/N’s throat let go and Dean regained full control. Breathless, Y/N collapsed against him and darkness enveloped her.

“Y/N!” Dean shook Y/N’s limp body.

No, I just saved you. Please, come back!

His thoughts raced a thousand miles per hour, his heart broke for the millionth time that day and just when he was about to give up hope, a ragged breath escaped Y/N’s lips.

She coughed violently, gasping for breath as she regained consciousness. Dean held her close to him and kissed her forehead.

Warmth radiating from his body enveloped Y/N in a blanket of safety and comfort. She knew it was Dean, not Michael per se, but the feelings were the same. It was as if, somehow, despite everything she’d gone through, her love had gotten back to her.

Dean couldn’t explain the feelings he had for Y/N but he couldn’t care less. She was his, she was safe, and that was all that really mattered.

Looking down to Y/N, Dean felt reality warp around them. Suddenly, they weren’t in a motel room anymore but in the middle of a garden, bathed in moonlight, surrounded by trees as the wind whispered sweet nothings in their ear. Her beautiful, wide eyes met his own and her full lips beckoned him closer. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers.

The second their lips met, fireworks went off around them. The kiss was gentle at first, light touches. Soon, however, a hunger deep within Dean awoke and he turned desperate, lightly biting at her lower lip. Swallowing her moans and brushing his tongue against hers.

In the midst of it all, Dean realized one thing; he’d finally come home.

****

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